


the wanderer’s heart

by fluffysfics



Series: reconciliation [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Heists, Hopeful Ending, Post-Episode: Revolution of the Daleks, Slow-dancing, badly timed kissing, it’s a combined dancing/stealing things fic what more do you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: On her own for a bit, the Doctor decides to scan for the Master. To her surprise, she finds him.What’s he doing at one of the grandest parties she’s ever seen? What nefarious plan is he hiding from her this time?
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: reconciliation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122683
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	the wanderer’s heart

It’s a beautiful party, really. The decor is elegant, the guests are glittering (some quite literally, there’s a few people here made entirely out of living crystal), and the music floating through the air is light and sweet, perfect for a dance. 

In short, the Doctor is feeling _extremely_ uncomfortable. 

She’s put on nice clothes for a change; the same suit she’d worn to Barton’s party all those years ago now, accentuated with a sparkling gold bow tie. She fits in, physically, but...but it’s still hard to be in a crowd, after so many years in prison. Yaz would have been helpful, a familiar face to support her, but this isn’t a mission she wants humans getting involved in. 

The Doctor steels her nerves, and begins picking her way through the couples whirling around the dance floor. The Master is here somewhere. She just has to find him. 

Deep down, she knows she shouldn’t. If he’s not dead, and he clearly isn’t if her TARDIS scanner could pick him up, then he’s up to no good. He’s _always_ up to no good, and it shouldn’t have to be her problem all the time. But if he’s not directly bothering her, he’s probably forcing some gormless crowd of rich aristocrats into handing over all their valuables, or charming an entire planet into eating out of his hand, and it’s her job to protect people. Look after people. She’s been struggling with her identity enough lately- might as well fall back on some old favourites. She’s the Doctor, and she stops the Master. 

Never mind that she also loves him. 

Shoving her hands firmly into her pockets, she does her best to ignore that thought. He’s not making himself easy to spot, which is almost a surprise- with all the fuss he’d caused at the Adelaide Gallery, it’s clear that his current incarnation likes to make a scene. 

The Doctor reaches the other side of the ballroom without spotting him, and starts to pace. It takes her a good thirty seconds to realise that she’s trudging out her old exercise route- four big strides along the short side, six across the longer side, repeat to make a box. _Ugh_. 

Then again, Angela and the other prisoners might make for more entertaining company than some of these party guests. She forces herself to still, scanning the crowd. A young woman laughing at her date’s joke, a man dressed head to toe in silver bowing to someone, a- a dark-haired figure in purple hunched over near the edge of the room. 

Electricity shoots right up the Doctor’s spine. All of a sudden, she feels energised, breathless; almost as nervous as if she were about to approach her crush for a dance. But he’s not her crush, and she won’t ask him to dance. She needs to get him out of here before he can pull off whatever he’s got planned. 

She strides across the room, reaching out confidently to grab his shoulder. “Don’t think you can hide from me. What’s your game this time, M- oh.” 

An extremely confused-looking complete stranger shakes her hand off of his shoulder, gives her a ‘what the fuck’ look, and hurries off to the other side of the room. It’s a strange combination of embarrassment and disappointment that makes the Doctor’s face burn, and she rests her forehead against the cold marble wall. 

Someone taps her on the shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me,” she mumbles, in no mood for her usual pleasantries. 

“Now, my dear, come on. That’s no way to greet your best enemy.” 

_Oh_. 

The sound of his voice alone sends shivers down her spine. She’s missed it, missed _him_ , in all of his awful, awful glory. 

She definitely can’t let him know that. 

The Doctor forces cold neutrality to drop over her face, and turns around to look at him. 

For the second time in less than thirty seconds, the only thing she can think is ‘ _oh_ ’. 

His hair is a little longer than when she’d last seen him, all broken and bruised on Gallifrey. He’s no longer a sickly silvery-grey, either; he looks remarkably healthy. He’s dressed in a purple suit, but not his usual one- this one shimmers in the light, parts of it shifting to a rich peacock blue as he lifts his arm, offers her his hand. 

“The least you can do after leaving me to die is dance with me, Theta.” 

She should argue with that logic, but she really doesn’t want to. 

The Doctor takes his hand, and finds herself being pulled into his arms. When they’d danced as children, he’d always been the one to lead. Even on the odd occasion she’d allowed herself to slow dance with Missy in the Vault, the Doctor had found herself following. 

She’s not in the mood for following today. 

Very firmly, she takes the Master’s hands, repositioning them. She grips his waist, laces their fingers together, and steps out onto the dance floor with him. 

“You’re shorter than me, I really should be leading, love.” He sounds more amused than anything else. “And you’re a—“

“Don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” she snaps. “You’ve got one inch on me. I was an entire half a foot taller last time and you still led me just fine. As a woman.” 

The Master just shrugs, and settles his head against her shoulder. It fits there far too well. “Fine with that, if it means I can do this...” 

The Doctor really hates how much she likes having him rest there. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to feel the music, copying the steps the other dancers are making. It’s...easier than expected. Dancing with the Master comes alarmingly naturally to her, even now. 

“So,” he murmurs after a minute. “How was prison?” 

“Bad. Wait- you _knew_ about that?” She’s so surprised that she misses a step, and has to hastily apologise to the two women that she’d just bumped into. 

“Of course I did, dear. I do keep tabs on you. Considered trying to break you out, but it would have been nearly impossible. Would have taken me a century just to get my TARDIS through their defences.” 

“Captain Jack managed it,” the Doctor says, for the sole reason that she knows the Master hates him. 

“That freak of nature isn’t wanted on most civilised planets and doesn’t own a highly complex time machine.” The Master grips her hand tighter. “Nearly anyone would have had an easier time of breaking you out than I would have.” 

“Someone’s jealous...” 

He growls against her collarbone in a way that sounds like he really wants to bite it, and the Doctor pointedly does _not_ think about how nice that would feel. 

“How’s the superiority complex coming along, _Timeless Child_?” 

“Thought the _inferiority_ complex was _your_ thing,” she quips back, mostly to avoid thinking too hard about her distant past. It most certainly had not given her a superiority complex. Identity crisis, perhaps, despite her companions’ (companion singular now, she reminds herself) best efforts to reassure her that she was the Doctor, just like always. 

“I’m over it,” the Master says, slightly too fast. 

This line of discussion is clearly leading nowhere good. And it’s a distraction, the Doctor reminds herself. She’s here to stop the Master, whatever he might be doing. She can’t let herself get caught up in their rivalry. 

The music shifts, and she spins him, feeling the tails of her coat flare out behind her as they twirl. Maybe she shouldn’t, but she kind of wants to lose herself in this. Focus in on nothing but the Master in her arms, the easy way they can fit together and dance like they were _made_ for this. She remembers slow-dancing in her Academy bedroom, humming soft tunes as they circled the floor. She remembers kisses, long and warm and slow, no rush behind them, nothing but the promise of a long, long future together. 

“Your hearts are going a mile a minute,” the Master informs her. “Out of shape, or do I just have that effect on you?” 

She blinks. Her heart rate is the last thing she‘s been paying attention to. Perhaps that’s why the Master had decided to rest against her, just so that he could tease her. “No,” she retorts. “It’s...adrenaline. Because I know you’ve got something big planned at an event like this, and I know I’m gonna have to stop you.” 

The Master sighs like he’s wounded, pulling away to spin out right at the end of her arm. He twirls back in perfect time with the other dancers, and she catches him, hand resting on the small of his back. “Whyever would I do a thing like that?” He flutters his eyelashes at her. 

“Because- you said yourself, it gets my attention. And that’s what you want, right?” 

The Master chuckles, leans in close, right against her ear. His lips graze against it, and the Doctor stifles the soft noise that tries to escape her throat. “I do have a life outside of you, my dearest.” 

“Could- coulda fooled me,” the Doctor says, finding her throat suddenly very dry. She swallows a few times, and she can practically feel the Master’s amusement. That won’t do. “So come on- if you’re not here for me, what are you doing? There’s gotta be a plan.” 

“Would you believe I was invited?” 

“No,” she says, deadpan. 

“Such a cynic,” the Master sighs. “Mm...fine, I wasn’t. I just...really wanted to see you...” He presses himself against her, voice going all breathy like Missy’s had used to on occasion. 

The Doctor gives him a very unimpressed look. He pouts. 

“There’s a gemstone in one of the back rooms of this palace that I need to repair my TARDIS,” he says shortly. “It’s been on the fritz since I used it to escape Gallifrey.” 

“You’re here to _steal_ \- mmph!” The Doctor’s eyes go wide as she finds herself being _kissed_ , the Master’s lips pressing against hers very insistently indeed. His mind brushes across her own, and she receives two very firm words. _Shut up_. 

It’s only when she hums a slightly stunned agreement against his mouth that he pulls away, looking incredibly casual about the whole thing. Like he hadn’t just been snogging her brains out for exactly sixteen point four eight seconds. She kind of wishes it had been longer. 

“Keep dancing,” he says under his breath, locking eyes with her now. She nods, finding her feet again and beginning to move around the floor with the same easy grace as before. 

“The jewel is called the Wanderer’s Heart,” the Master informs her telepathically, projecting an image of a large green stone that seemed to almost glow from within. “I need a scraping of it, the powder is the only thing that will fix my ship’s vortex circuitry. This is the only example of one of these gemstones in easy access range that my TARDIS could locate. And this particular stone apparently cursed, so that’s fun.” 

“So you’re not even going to steal it,”the Doctor says, dubious. “That’s not like you.” 

“I’m really not. Come with me if you don’t believe me. But I need to go _now_ \- the security guard I hypnotised will be coming off his shift soon.” 

The Master’s eyes are burning into hers with an animated urgency that she hasn’t seen in a long while. He’s in control of the situation, and if she comes along, he’ll want her to follow his plan. She’s never been very good at following plans, but...

“Alright,” the Doctor agrees. “But I’m just coming to make sure you don’t steal it. I’m not an accomplice here.” 

“Whatever makes you happy, love.” The Master switches back to speaking out loud, and leans in to purr into her ear. “Smile. Look charmed. Two people leaving a ballroom together’s going to look suspicious unless they think we’re sneaking off to have sex in a bathroom.” 

“ _You_ smile and look charmed.” The Doctor rests her forehead against his, and to his credit, the Master does as he’s told. He laughs softly, pressing against her, twirling his fingers through her hair. 

“I think we look convincing enough,” he murmurs, leaning in until his lips are practically touching her own. “Shall we?” He steals a kiss, just for a second. It’s a really good second, and the Doctor immediately hates that she had that thought. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” She keeps hold of the Master’s hand, and he _giggles_ as she pulls them both across the dance floor and out of the room. 

“Oh, _Doctor_ , you’re such a _flirt_ ,” he sighs, voice pitching up all high and sweet. 

“Where’s this jewel hiding, then?” She can’t believe she’s let herself get suckered into _helping_ him when she came here to stop him. Ugh. Well, the least she can do is not give his silliness any attention it doesn’t deserve. 

“Just follow me, love.” He strides confidently away from the ballroom, leading her along grand marble corridors. Their footsteps echo as they walk, and the Doctor finds herself so distracted by the grand decor that she doesn’t realise she’s still holding the Master’s hand until someone shouts at her. 

“Oi! What d’you think you’re doing?” A security guard steps away from a door- strangely, he only seems to have eyes for her. 

“Ah, whoops. Wasn’t expecting to have company with me when I did this.” The Master clears his throat, stepping in front of the guard and clapping his hands. “Look into my eyes. Just look at me, that’s it. Down you go...” He lets go of the Doctor’s hand, gently guiding the suddenly very still security guard back to his post. “We’ve been through this before, you’re going to obey every word I say. Now- you won’t pay any attention to her, either. She’s just as unnoticeable as I am. Not worth your time, not worth a glance. Am I clear?” 

The man nods dreamily. 

“Good boy.” The Master pats him on the cheek. “You’ll wake when I snap my fingers, forgetting you saw her at all.” There’s a loud click, and the guard blinks, returning to standing tall and steady at his post. 

“You don’t have to hypnotise people,” the Doctor grumbles, following him in through the door behind the guard. 

“Would you rather I kill them?” 

She doesn’t have a retort for that. She folds her arms, wandering further into the room. It’s a vault, and a beautiful one- a room designed to be walked through, admired, bragged about. Gold plinths hold hundreds of jewels and artefacts, some ancient, some clearly custom-built expressly to be displayed here. 

“Wow,” she can’t help but say. 

“Yeah. There’s stuff from all across the universe here. Some of it bought. Quite a lot of it stolen.” The Master lingers over a gorgeous choker that appears to be carved entirely from diamond. He reaches for it- she steps up, smacks his hand. 

“No stealing,” the Doctor says sharply. 

“Killjoy.” 

“Well, you’re a...a magpie,” she says limply. The Master snorts. 

“Yeah, I like shiny things. What are you going to do about it?” 

“Not let you steal any of them.” She follows him closely through the vault, making sure his wandering hands aren’t slipping anything into pockets or up sleeves. 

The Wanderer’s Heart is resting on a tall pillar near the back of the room. It’s...far more impressive in real life than it had been from the image she’d been shown. It’s easily the size of two fists pressed together, and it glows from within, like it’s alive, like it’s calling to her. The Doctor finds herself mesmerised as she steps closer, gaze fixed on the shifting light at the centre of the stone. 

“Hey.” The Master grips her shoulder. “Maybe don’t look directly at it. Apparently it steals men’s souls. And you might be a...not a man, but _still_.” 

“That’s definitely a stupid myth,” the Doctor says, digging for her sonic. The Master reaches into his pocket as well, removing a sharp tool and a small pot. As she scans the stone, he starts to chip away at it with his gaze fixed firmly off to the side, delicately shaving off a small sliver from one facet. 

She studies the readings from the Heart as the Master carefully seals the pot and tucks it away, and then she lets out a snort of laughter loud enough to make him jump. 

“Theta...?” 

“Koschei, how long’s this stone been here?” She grins, loving the satisfaction of knowing something that no one else does. 

“A few hundred years. Gets passed down through the family that owns this place.” 

“And how long has that silly rumour about stealing souls been going on?” 

“About the same amount of time...?” He raises an eyebrow. “The collection was robbed, and the owner at the time brought in the Wanderer’s Heart as a deterrent. A stone so beautiful and supposedly magical that anyone who laid eyes on it would be trapped, staring at it until the guards came to pick them up.” 

The Doctor’s grin grew brighter. “So it’s been here all this time, not moving?” 

“Yes...” 

She reaches out, hefts the stone off of its cushion, and points triumphantly. “Look!” 

There’s a small flat device perched there, one covered in small, dim lights that illuminate in shifting, random patterns. The Doctor shows off the stone in her hands- it’s incredibly rare and pretty, certainly, but not pretty enough to steal souls. 

“You’ve got to be kidding. Are those-“ 

“Hypno-lights. Mostly used by shady governments on this planet and those in the surrounding systems, a few hundred years ago. Outlawed about a century back. Someone very clever and very morally compromised got their hands on a set when they were widely in use, and _made up_ a cursed gemstone.” 

“I cannot _believe_ you.” The Master laughs, and it’s a ridiculously good sound. For a minute, the Doctor can believe that they’re young again, giggling about some rude book they found buried at the back of the library. 

“Hey, Kosch. You still feeling like you want to steal something? You should take those.” She points to the swirling lights. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Put an end to the silly rumour. And if half this collection’s stolen in the first place, maybe some of the rightful owners will come back for it if they’re less afraid of having their souls sucked out by a cursed rock.” 

“Oh, there’s always an altruistic motive.” The Master rolls his eyes, plucking the lights off of the cushion. A wire snaps- there’s a terribly ominous moment of silence, and then- the wailing screech of alarms. 

“Run!” The Doctor slams the stone back into place, grabs the Master’s hand without thinking, and bolts out of the vault. The security guard is looking panicked, but he still doesn’t see them- for just a second, she allows herself to be thankful for the Master’s mental abilities. 

They sprint through the corridors, and she’s heading for her TARDIS without even really realising, at least until the Master tries to tug her in another direction and nearly wrenches her arm out of its socket. 

“Ow! My ship’s this way!” 

“Mine’s that way.” He points. He’s out of breath, less fit than she is, but he’s gorgeous like this. Glowing with adrenaline, hair a little ruffled- her hearts _ache_. 

“Come with me,” she offers, and he’s shaking his head before she even finishes the sentence. 

“I can’t. I-“ He closes his eyes, trying to get his rough breathing under control. “Not now, Theta, okay? I’m not ready. I can’t.” 

Her eyes widen. Not _now_? Does that mean- 

Before she can think on it anymore, the Master kisses her. It’s not to shut her up this time, not to fool a crowd; it’s genuine. And the Doctor wraps her arms tight around him, and she kisses him back. He tastes like he always has done, honey-sweet and like home, with the faintest tang of ash and smoke. 

There are footsteps approaching when they finally break apart, a team of security guards just rounding the corner at the other end of the corridor. The Doctor isn’t quite sure what to say after _that_ , and the Master looks like he isn’t sure either.

“I’ll- I’ll see you again soon,” she promises, meeting his eyes. Wanting him to promise, too. 

“Soon,” he agrees. His hands move to grip hers tightly. “Like this, always like this. Or you could just- just call me. That’s an option.” 

The guards are still coming, nearly here now; before the Doctor can reply, the Master lets her go, and turns to sprint off down the corridor. For a second, she’s frozen, staring after him- and then she snaps into action, tearing off in the opposite direction towards her own TARDIS. 

She doesn’t often trust the Master these days. But she really thinks she’ll see him again. Maybe the next time Yaz wants to see her family, she’ll drop her off and check the scanners again. Find out what he’s up to this time. 

As she flings herself through the doors of the TARDIS and races to the controls, the Doctor lets out a laugh. She’s grinning, and she’d barely even noticed when _that_ had started happening, but it feels _so_ good. She’s ready for adventure, all of a sudden. Ready for friends, and enemies, and _fun_. 

She feels more like herself than she has in years. 

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with this idea and wrote the whole thing in one afternoon and am VERY happy with how it came out, so I hope you enjoyed it too!! comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


End file.
